


Reading Between the Lines

by SapphireBlueJiyuu



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Awkward Romance, F/M, Pen Pals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 01:25:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1921425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireBlueJiyuu/pseuds/SapphireBlueJiyuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young biochemist had all but given up on making friends in this new town she had been living in for the past four months when one morning, Fate was just as bored as she was and gave her a little push in the right direction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr [ [Right Hurrrr](http://sapphireglyphs.tumblr.com/post/91125437634/reading-between-the-lines-ward-x-simmons-au) ].

Moving to a new city is hard on anyone. But for Jemma, she was moving to a whole new country. True, she had the unreal advantage of coming to America to work for a multi-billion dollar corporation doing research for a private government contractor with her best friend, but after almost half a year of living in Los Angeles, she didn't know if she could take anymore movie nights-in with Fitz.

So, she tried socializing with her co-workers but they were more the homebody types just like herself and found her quirky British tendencies to be a passing novelty and, soon, they too lost interest in her. Especially now with Fitz completely swamped with new top-secret prototypes to build and design, Jemma found herself at home alone on more nights than she could count.

She entertained the idea of getting a hairless cat or dog (Fitz was allergic to cat fur and some particular breeds of dogs) but between the long hours at the lab and phoning home to her parents to let them know that she was still alive and kicking it, she could hardly make sure that she ate properly let alone remember to clean up after a cat or feed a dog on a regular basis.

The young biochemist had all but given up on making friends in this new town she had been living in for the past four months when one morning, Fate was just as bored as she was and gave her a little push in the right direction.

 

* * *

 

Jemma scrolled down the daily paper on her tablet, making her way to the 7-day weather report, which was always on the last page of the Classified section, when something caught her eye. 

> ➸  **Pᴇɴ-ᴘᴀʟ Pᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟ Aᴅ** ✍
> 
> _ Are you lonely? Do you find it hard to connect with people on a daily basis? Are you too busy with other obligations in your life that it feels like you're missing out on meeting great people? Do you find coffee shops or bars just aren't your scene? Do you prefer a nice warm beverage at home, curled up on the couch but crave companionship without the hassles of dating? Then you've come to the right place. _
> 
> _** Pen-pal Personal Ads  ** _ _ offers a platform where you can find, meet, and connect with people who are interested in the same things that you are. You aren't obligated to give your name, age, or gender; just the topics you want to talk about with your potential new “BFF”! Make life-long friends from the comfort of your own home... or where ever your wi-fi connects automatically. _
> 
> _ Join today for free! _

Her eyes scanned over the ads on the first page and she couldn't help but chuckle at the variety of people that have sent in topics for conversation:

  *  _Yoga type, holistic, healthy veggie seeking friend with similar interests (open to more serious relationship, in the future). In need of partner who is pure of heart and body for an exploration of a world from the great beyond._
  * _Wanting to go to a swingers party with those who love to live life to its fullest._
  * _Mature European literary man seeking young, adorable muse. Let us converse about the art and beauty of writing. Ink wells optional._
  * _House calls to a unique new confidential patient. Intriguing topics in need barrier breaking in private._
  * _Attached and looking for adventurous discreet lady counterpart. Just for fun._
  * _Tall, blue-eyed CEO seeking for his Cinderella to take to the ball. Let's discuss possible fairy tale endings._



“What are you giggling about over there?”

Jemma nearly leapt out of her seat and smacked Fitz in the face with her tablet. “ _Fitz_! What in heavens are you-  _argh_! Are you mad? Sneaking up on me like that...”

Fitz's body shook with laughter but he didn't let the subject go. “Sorry. And don't go changing the subject: what are you giggling about over there?”

Jemma clutched the tablet protectively across her chest. “I am looking at ads for... glow-in-the-dark... rabbits!” Jemma supplied unconvincingly.

Fitz scoffed. “Yeah, no, you're not. Hand it over, Simmons.”

She conceded and passed her tablet over towards the engineer, her face inflamed embarrassment.

“Pen-pal Personal Ads? Really, Jemma? Are you  _that_  desperate that you've resorted to online-dating?”

“It's not a dating site! It's a find-a-friend-near-you site.”

“Or a-creeper-near-you site.” He muttered under his breath as he browsed the ads.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she hissed at him, “I am already paranoid as it is. The  _least_  you can do is be a bit more supportive.” She chided him. “You don't need me to tell you how hard it was making friends at the academy when you were 5 years younger than the freshmans in all your classes.”

Fitz had the decency to look at least a little guilty. “Fine, any of these  _topics of conversation_  catch your fancy?”

She scoffed, “Yeah, I'm not going near any of those with a ten-foot pole.” Jemma thought for a moment, gnawing at her bottom lip lightly, before taking the tablet back and scrolling back up, “There was one near the beginning that sounded promising... ah, here we are.” she replied, handing the tablet back to him.

Fitz took the tablet from her and started reading aloud, “ _In need of improving interpersonal skills. Enjoys "_ _Gates of Fire", "Matterhorn", and Cormac McCarthy novels. Seeking a partner for intellectual discussions regarding global topics such as current civil unrest in underdeveloped countries, global governance failure, profound political and social instability, etc. Strictly written correspondence; in person meetings are not required._ ” The young engineer could hardly contain his shock. “Wow, how did you find this titanium plating in the scrap-metal junk yard of nimrods?”

Jemma shrugged as she took a bite of her toast. “Haven't the foggiest. I presume luck but then again I could just have just been looking for entries that did not have the words “sexy”, “exotic”, or “boobs” in the description.”

Fitz chuckled. "Well, I hope you and Cormac McCarthy hit it off and Skye and I wont find you instead in a ditch somewhere... as a matter of fact, if you give me the website, I could probably get Skye to hack into the publication company and track the IP address so we can do a background check on this guy-"

“I'm going to stop you right there. I don't want a  _background_ check on my penpal!" Jemma proclaimed, slightly peeved by his overt concerns. "Besides, that would ruin the mystery. This'll be fun! I'm sure it'll be a shoe-in... a corner post goal... a... uhm... a home run! Yes, yes, I'll knock it right out of the park!” She mentally pat herself for being able to retain the little baseball lingo that one of the male patrons at the local bar was trying to teach her but eventually gave up, thinking she was a lost cause on the subject. ' _Take_ that _James something or other._ '

Stabbing one of the sausages that she just finished cooking straight from the griddle, Fitz walked over to the toaster and grabbed his toast before he groused, “You do realize that increasing the use of sports terminology does not help to make your case any more valid than if you didn't.”

Jemma briefly entertained the idea of “forgetting” to close the window open and let Miss. Flangerhanger's tabby into the apartment before she settled for rolling her eyes at Fitz. “Shut up and eat your toast, Fitz.”

 

* * *

 

“Simmons.”

Jemma did not even have to look up from her clipboard to know exactly who it was. “Ward.” Finally, placing the bio-hazardous material back into the secure canteen, she waved over for him to take a seat on the stool in the corner. “I am assuming your reoccurring phobia of hospitals is the reason you've decided to come to me again and rather than go to the proper facilities to get your wounds treated for.”

Grant shot the biochemist his most intimidating glare. “I see that your bedside manners have improved since the last time I was here. At least, you aren't trying to melt off my face with a blowtorch.”

The biochemist snorted. “Serves you right for sneaking up on me like you did. And the infirmary is just one floor down, why do you  _insist_  on coming to see me? Are you afraid I don't have enough to do here?”

The security consultant narrowed his eyes and proceeded to push himself up gingerly onto the makeshift exam bed – or rather exam reclined-chair to be exact. “Maybe it's the scent of bleach and your Bristishness that keeps me coming back.”

She huffed a sigh when she nearly ran in his broad form. “Just hurry up and take your shirt off so I can get back to  _real_  work.”

“Whoa, slow down there, Simmons. At least buy a guy dinner first before you make such lecherous demands.” Grant's weak attempt at humor fell on deaf ears though as Simmons got right down to work.

For all the grief she gave him every time he came in to get patched up (mind you, he gave as good as he took), she never intentionally poke or prod his bruises with malicious intent. Her gentle hand would apply ointment and wrap his bleeding abrasions, stitch him back up with the care and the steady hands of a surgeon, which she had probably acquired over years working in a lab setting. Grant watched her work with efficiency and could not help but feel compelled to tell her the real reason as to why he always sought her assistance rather than go to the infirmary. 

 

* * *

 

Jemma plopped down with her sandwich and iced tea across the table from Skye and turned on her tablet. 

"So, anything exciting happen in the lab today? Like did anything explode?" Skye happily inquired. 

Jemma rolled her eyes. Every time Skye asked her about work, it often revolved around whether something exploded or not. "No, sorry to disappoint you."

Checking her e-mail as she took a dainty bite of her sandwich, she nearly choked when she saw that, in fact, Cormac McCarthy had replied to her response (" _Oh, bugger! Now you've got ME calling him that!_ ").

"Whoa, there, are you okay?"

Taking a generous sip of her tea, and coughing a few more times, Jemma finally was able to rasp, "Yes, I'm fine. It's just... never mind."

Skye narrowed her eyes. "Jemma... what are you looking at? Are you look at naked dudes at work?" She asked wagging her eyebrows, trying to swipe the tablet from the Biochemist. Jemma shielded her precious tablet with her body, blushing to the roots of her hair as she sputtered at the accusation. "No! Nothing like that... I just... got a response to message I sent out to a... friend."

"Ooooo, like a  _guy_ friend?" Skye asked in an obnoxious tone that left Jemma glaring at her friend playfully.

The petite scientist shrugged before saying, "And if he was? It shouldn't warrant an inquisition squad." 

"Oh, come on, Jemma! You know how boring it gets in this stupid office. You gotta give me something to keep myself entertained. At least give me his name."

"I don't know what it is. All I know about him is that his initials are "DW"." 

"Ooooo, he's mysterious. Oh! Maybe "DW" stands for Dark Wing Duck! No, would be totally lame. Maybe he's... Detective Washboard-Abs. Ooo! And, knowing you, if he caught your attention, he's gotta be good at something. He's probably, like, super smart too, isn't he? Oh my god, you guys are going to end up having little Einstein babies!"

"Easy there, Road Runner, we are just corresponding with each other." Jemma said defensively, "Can't even really consider each other friends at this point." The problem was that Jemma couldn't deny to herself that her heart starts to race just a little bit whenever she thought about her mystery writer. 

She hopes that maybe he feels the same when he opens her replies. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continued by popular demand. :D I hope it doesn't disappoint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the typos. I wanted to post this as quickly as possible so it was only edited once. Let me know what you think.

It had been nearly two and a half weeks since she had made initial contact with DW and at this point, Jemma thinks she just might be half in love with him already. From the four letters he had composed for her, she found out that he worked for a private sector for the government (thus his interest in worldly topics of discussion), that he grew up in Massachusetts, and that he had a soft spot for “West Side Story”. He had a dry sense of humor, a kindness about him that he took pride in hiding, and  _did_   _not_  like to talk about his family. He was also loyal – almost to a fault. He had called it stubbornness.

Jemma picked up her tablet from the coffee table, then she slipped into her bedroom. She got ready for bed as quickly as possible, throwing on her most comfortable pair of pajamas and sweeping her hair up into a ponytail. Then she slipped into bed, nestles down into the covers and relaxed. Now she can fully enjoy her letter without any nighttime duties hanging over her head.

Before she could stop herself, Jemma automatically looked over to the size of the scroll bar to see how long the letter was this time. The first few messages that he had sent her were fairly short but they were always well thought out despite them being a bit sparse in flourishes which she catches herself doing on multiple occasions when replying.

She has ascertained from his writing style and choice of wording, as well as syntax, that he was a simple man with ideas about the changing the world by any means necessary. His morality seemed, at times, a bit blurred but he seemed to be good on the inside, his heart always in the right place.

Part of her didn't want to read his response at all, because right now the letter could contain  _anything_ , be as long as she wanted it to be. But as soon as she read the first line, Jemma knew it was going to end and at the last line she would be back to where she started, longing for the next one.

Yet her curiosity won out, as it always did. She switches off the light on her night stand and settled back into her plush pillows and began to read.

_Dear friend…_

 

* * *

 

The next morning Jemma had a bounce in her step as she nearly skipped into the lab. Smiling her usual brilliant smile, her cheery attitude left Fitz and her other co-workers rolling their eyes all morning, especially whenever they would catch her humming show tunes to the microscope and various lab equipments.

During the break, Fitz situated himself across from Jemma with a large bowl of popcorn in front of him while the young biochemist immediately sat down with a small bag of baby carrots and began to compose her response letter. Clearing his throat after a moment, Fitz proudly declared, “Right so, I just want you to know, Skye and I took the liberty of hacking into the site and we were able to trace the IP address."

Jemma's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. "You _what_?"

Fitz defensively put up his hands. "Now, before you go flying off the handle, you might want to listen to our findings first."

The scientist looked away annoyed but conceded, allowing her friend to continue. "Fine. What did you find out? He's married and has a beautiful wife who's got a Nobel prize, three kids, and a house in the suburbs?"

Fitz pauses for a moment before closes his eyes. "If we take into account all the female Nobel prize winners who are still alive and have current husbands who are married with three kids..." Fitz did a quick calculation in his head before saying, "That would leave... Tawakkol Karman. But she doesn't live in Los Angeles... so..."

Jemma rolled her eyes before waving his impressive observation. "Ugh, Fitz! Never mind that-"

"Your DW is in fact from LA-"

"Something I already knew from asking him!"

"...and he works for this company."

That got Jemma to clam up immediately. 

Fitz debated for a moment, wondering if he had just defused a bomb or let the timer run out and it is now about to explode in his face. "We tracked the IP address to one of the computers in the ground operations sector of the company. We couldn't narrow it down to anybody in particular since it looks like DW uses the free computers in the media room." 

When she didn't say anything still, but he could see the gears spinning out of control in her head, he sheepishly rubbed his neck. "We were just worried about you, is all. We didn't mean to ' _take the mystery out of it_ ', okay? We wanted to make sure he wasn't a psychopath with a penchant for pretentious American literature. You can rest easy knowing it's a guy that passed the company screening and he is not wanted in any of the states in the continental US."

Jemma's continued silence really began to worry at the engineer to the point where he slowly picked up his bowl of popcorn and said he'll just go eat in the break room. 

When the heavy door closed behind a dejected Fitz, Jemma snapped out of her reverie, face split into a bright smile. "Thank you, Fitzy."  she whispered, making a mental note to thank Skye later when she meets up with her for coffee. 

She turned back to her tablet and began composing her response to DW, with a new kernel of knowledge to add to the image of him in her mind's eye. 

She was half way done with her letter when Antoine Triplett walked into the outside dining area. “Ah. Just the woman I was looking for.”

Jemma shoot straight up off the bench and self consciously fiddled with her hair. “Mr. Triplett! What a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you this fine day?”

“Well, ma'am, I have new orders from the higher ups for you.” He handed her a blue folder with the details for said project.

“Oh, thank you. Mmm, these look exciting. Thank you for walking this up for me, you didn't have to do that.” Jemma blushed looking up at him with bright eyes. Then it hit her that Triplett worked with ground operations. He was also dashingly handsome and always so nice to her. And he had such a brilliant smile, Jemma could not help but return it.

“Aw, this was nothing. You and your colleagues do a lot of the real heavy lifting around here. Without your hard work and genius designs, we down at ground ops would have no way of effectively defending ourselves. Bringing up orders to you... it's the least I could do.” He responded, shooting her one of his million-watt smiles, leaving her weak in the knees. Realizing that he worked down at ground ops, “Say, Mr. Triplett, do you happen to use the media center computers?"

Trip nodded. "Yeah, most members of the ground ops department use them to file our daily reports."

The biochemist pressed her lips together in anticipation as she pressed on. "You don't happen to read Cormac McCarthy, do-”

Jemma had to make sure she wasn't actually swooning out loud when someone cleared their throat from behind the man in front of her. “ _Ahem_.”

Jemma narrowed her eyes and looked around to see Grant Ward had standing bruised and battered. She rolled her eyes and grumbled under her breath, “Speaking of people who bring me nothing but  _unwanted_  work.”

With an eyebrow raised, Ward glared at the pair of them. “Trip. Simmons. I hope I wasn't interrupting anything.”

“Nope.” Triplett answered simultaneously with Jemma who muttered, “Yes.” Both men stared at a blushing Jemma, Trip looking bemusedly at her and Ward who looked beyond annoyed. 

Trip chuckled with a twinkle in his eyes before continuing, “I was just dropping off a new order from Garrett for Jemma.” Turning back to Jemma he grinned saying, “I do, by the way, read McCarthy. I even recommended him to Ward.”

' _Of course, he did._ ' Jemma thought bitterly, as she gave a tight smile, ' _the man needed a healthy dose of art in his seemingly dull and miserable life, the uncultured swine._ '

“That's lovely! I just picked up a book from him. We should talk about it some time.” Jemma suggested.

Trip walked backwards slowly. “I'd like that. See you around, Jem.”

Watching him walk away, Jemma smiled ruefully before realizing that Ward was still standing next to her, bleeding and in need of immediate medical attention.

She turned to the security consultant and wrinkled her nose. “Do you have _any_ concern for your own well being?”

Ward gave a dead pan response. “Simmons... I didn't know you cared.”

“I don't.” She replied truthfully, holding the door open for him as he hobbled inside the lab. “Clearly whomever is attacking you should be fired. Crack shot like that should start looking for a new job.”

Taking out her first-aid kit, Jemma turned back to see that Ward had shed his soiled black shirt into the bio-hazardous bin. The extent of his injuries were a display of purple bruising and slightly bleeding scrapes and cuts. She hissed at the sight – she couldn't help it, really – and began to spread the liquid band-aid over his open wounds once they had been disinfected, blowing cold air on each cut every time he tried but failed to hide his wince. “Perhaps you should re-evaluate your life choices, Ward.”

“My life choices are mine. I've gotten by so far on them, haven't I?”

She glared at him and wonders why it is was that he always gets so badly beat up when a bunch of the new recruits hard have scratches on them after the simulations and drills. It worried her more than she cared to admit so instead she channeled that worry into hostility at his lack of self preservation. “And, maybe you're not as good as you say you are. Mr. Triplett never has to come in here, bleeding all over my newly disinfected counter tops.”

The comment promptly induces complete silence from him for the rest of the patch up session. It unnerved her how he promptly thanked her, got up, and left without another word. Not a single quip from him. His silence got under her skin far more than she cared to admit.

 

* * *

 

Through the all-glass façade of the media room, Ward can see the tubby, middle-aged technician letting himself out from the half-door of the front desk with some keys dangling from his finger, probably hoping he can lock the doors a few minutes early. He frowns when he spots Ward heading his way at full tilt and instead decides to start powering down all the other computers save for the one Ward made a beeline for.

Accessing his e-mail account, he immediately spotted the unread message from “Personal Pen Pals”. An uncharacteristic grin graced his features for a second before he caught himself. Ward scanned the letter. He can tell before he reads a word that she's still having trouble with some jerk she mentioned a few times. Her words tend to have a lot more  _colorful_ adjectives when she writes about him. She doesn't say who it was, or how she knows the guy, because they keep those details to themselves. You know, that whole anonymous thing. But in her last letter she asked him for his advice, couching it as a "suppose someone were to..." Ward gives her the kind of advice he had given himself in his situations dealing with most of his co-workers. One, don't give the guy any edge over her. Two, offense is the best defense. And three, don't let him intimidate her.

Advice number four (which he didn't mention):  _tell him to_ _meet me so that I can rearrange his face for you_. Ward wrote that, then had deleted it immediately after wards. Not because he doesn't  _want_  to meet her, but were they ready? They're going to have to get a good look at one another sometime, though. There's only so much a man and a woman can do in a letter form, and, at this point, they've ran the range.

_Dear DW,_

_Thank you for your recent advice. I've tried to implement it, but it appears that perfection will only come with practice. I think I've discovered my basic problem. I've spent so long looking at the big picture, the megalomaniacs, the system that creates dictators, etc., that I missed one thing. I'm talking about the tyrants in our daily lives. The ones we rub shoulders with every day. What of them? If we overlook, nay, tolerate these individuals in lowest level of civilized society, it's no wonder men or women like Hitler or Stalin could seize power. We practically hand it to them…._

She had his sympathy, that's for sure. Ward has had his share of those types of characters in his past but he would rather not have to share that with her. He still wanted her to think well of him, after all.

Maybe some day when they actually meet, and he knows she won't run from him screaming bloody murder, then... maybe he'll have the courage to truly reveal all of himself to her.

This gave him pause. He had been conflicted over his emotions regarding both his ever surmounting feelings for  _Dear Friend_ and his exponentially thriving attraction to a certain prickly biochemist. On one hand the woman writing to him is so far superior in thought and attitude to Jemma, it's almost disrespectful of Ward to even think about them in the same sentence. But on the other other hand, there is something about Jemma's limitless amount of kindness (regardless of her verbal attacks towards Ward whenever he visits her) that keeps him drawn to her like moth to a raging volcano. She wasn't too bad on the eyes either. He was pulled by her realness, an incomprehensible addiction that kept him coming back to her like a junkie looking for a fix.

The thoughts of the way Jemma had more or less fawned all over Trip in the lab this morning, made his blood began to run just a couple of degrees hotter. Reining in his rage, Ward banished the thoughts of her and Trip from his thoughts so that he can finish reading his letter.

… _Sorry to bore you with vague details. Have you read anything from Tim O'Brian? "In the Lake of the Woods" is a personal favorite of mine from him. I finally found a copy at the library. Oh, I just wish I could see the expression on your face when you read it for the first time_ _._

_Yours, Dear Friend._

A crooked, half-grin threaded itself over Ward's face. There's a broad hint. He gets the feeling that she's going to get him to ask her to meet instead of just saying,  _Hey, how about a drink?_  He doesn't mind really. He just needs to work up the nerve, read the book she recommended and, most of all, square away a few loose ends. Which consists mainly of him ciphering his unresolved feelings for Jemma. 

 

* * *

 

The next day, Ward was had just started on getting the new group of recruits started on core training when a voice from behind him uttered, "Excuse me, Ward? May I please speak with you?"

His eyebrow raised at the familiar accent and crossed his arms across his chest. "Simmons. To say that I am surprised is a gross understatement. What brings you down to ground ops?"

There was a pause and Ward knew without having to looked at her face that she is weighing the pros and cons of actually telling him what it is she needed. She could just swallow her pride and walk away. It would all have to depend on how desperate she was. And the thought of her needing him sent a thrill through his body he could hardly mask in a shiver. He had a reputation to uphold, after all. 

If she noticed, she didn't mention it, as the next thing she divulged was, "I need your help on something."

Ward played it cool and tersely responded, “Why don't you go and ask Trip? You two looked chummy chummy the last time I saw you together outside of the lab.”

Jemma snorted, “Trust me, he was my first choice for the job but he is indisposed at the moment.”

Ward scoffed, "Well don't let him catch you spending time outside of work with me or he might get the wrong idea.”

That was enough to propel her forward to come stand in front of him, making sure he saw her "Mr.Triplett is a complete gentleman and would never have such ludicrous ideas."

"Oh, so the thought of spending time with me outside you patching me up is  _ludicrous_?" Ward groused.

Jemma narrowed her eyes at him. She looked so adorable when she was mad, he had to school his face not to smile when she huffed. "Ward... we have  _nothing_ in common whatsoever. There would be no  _reason_ for us t- "

"Yeah, yeah, are you going to ask for that favor or not?" It was like arguing with a tiny kitty cat that was hissing. Ward secretly hoped that if he ever got the opportunity to meet  _Dear Friend_ ,she would have a fraction of the spunk that Jemma Simmons had.

The woman in question began to gnaw at her bottom lip and Ward found himself thoroughly entranced to the point where he nearly missed her request. "If you could, could you please come to my condo and test the new security system that Fitz had just installed for me?" She queried.

Ward stared at her for a moment before she quickly added, "Please?"

"Fine, I'll do it. Never let it be said that Grant Ward doesn't repay a favor."

Jemma scoffed, "Well, I better go home early today to find more things for you to fix to make up for all the times you took me away from my _real_ work." She walked towards the heavy double doors, tossing him a quick look over her shoulder. "6:30 pm. I'll meet you in the visitor's parking lot. Don't. Be. Late."

 

* * *

 

Hours later, Jemma was in the kitchen making dinner for two, when Ward walked in from the bathroom. "Everything looks to be in order. The system should be completely reset now. Your shower head is no longer dripping. The stuck window panel has been fixed. And your neighbor Carl, has officially been intimidated by me. Shouldn't give you anymore trouble."

She set out two bottles of beer before turning to thank him, relief awash her tired features. "I knew Fitz installed the best. I just wanted to test it out to make sure all the specs were working alright."

Ward shook his head and sighed as he eyed the large spread on the dining table. "Expecting company?"

Jemma raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "Just you..."

He couldn't help the warmth that spread throughout his chest. "Really? I didn't think you had it in you." 

She shrugged. "Cooking is essentially just chemistry and experimentation. It's not too far off the spectrum of logic that I can find my way around a stove." Jemma fretted about the kitchen with the final touches before settling into the seat across from him.

Ward chuckled. "No, I meant _I didn't think I had it in you to be civil towards me_. If I didn't know any better, I would assume that you're warming up to me. Am I growing on you, Simmons?"

The scientist knitted her eyebrows together despite her efforts to keep her blush at bay. "Just shut up and eat your food."

The soft clinking of metal utensils on ceramic plates were the only noise that permeated the kitchen as an uneasy silence settled over them. Jemma berated herself for being nervous about Ward not agreeing with her food choices but then again she had been trying her best to perfect the recipe for the possibility of getting to cook for DW one day. Discreetly sneaking glances across the table, she gauged his reactions to each bite and caught herself staring at his lips as he licked a drop of sauce from the corner of his mouth. She immediately looked away and grabbed her beer.

"This is really good by the way." He finally said as he piled on another generous portion of the asparagus and scallops with lemon vinaigrette.

"Thanks. So do you usually cook at your place?" Jemma asked, taking a thoughtful bite of her salad.

"I mostly make sandwiches and simple stir fry dishes. No fancy spreads like this but I get by," He complimented, gesturing to the table, "Did you make this sauce from scratch? It's really savory."

The corner of her mouth lifted half an inch at that. "Mmm, the original recipe was a bit too salty for my tastes so I adjusted it until I got this concoction."

"Well, I definitely approve. You'll have to give me the recipe for it." Ward insisted.

"What am I going to use to bribe you to come back then?" The words came spilling out from her mouth before she could filter herself. Jemma wondered if praying for the floor beneath her feet to swallow her whole would be too much to ask when she looked up and nearly gasped at the heated look in Ward's eyes. 

The smirk on his lips made her even more weary of where her words just landed her. "You know," Ward dragged his words out languidly, "if you want me around, you could just ask. No need to beat around the bush or bribe me with food."

Her face completely aflame with embarrassment, Jemma turned her face away and soon a tension filled silence fell over the room like a thick cloud fog. 

Ward latched onto the tension floating in the air like a piece of driftwood and helplessly pondered what Jemma's true intentions behind her comment were. Did she _actually_ enjoy his company or was she just being sarcastic. Gauging by her immediate reaction afterwards though, he could ascertain that she might have meant it in a non-confrontational, non-platonic sense, regardless of the fact that she showed no signs of interest in him whatsoever before this night. Unless her hostile quips were actually masks for her potential feelings towards him. At this point, it would be foolish to draw conclusions based solely on one exchange between them. He wasn't sure how to proceed from here but he was never one to back down just because things got dicey. 

Finally, when they were both finished, Ward took the opportunity to help her with the dishes (despite her protests) eager to keep her company, even if it was just for a little longer. Ward's eyes had been fixed on the way the florescent lights bounced off her skin all evening and he wasn't sure if the heat that was rising in the kitchen was from the cooling stove or the beer or his undeniable attraction to the petite biochemist but he was slowly becoming uncomfortably warm. He shrugged off his leather jacket and placed it on one of the high stools that lined the side of the marble island in the middle of the kitchen, leaving him in only his dark gray shirt.

He then allowed his eyes to follow her movements as she rolled up the sleeves of her pink button-up blouse revealing porcelain arms that glisten once it soaked underneath the running water. He enjoyed watching the water the most. The water just seemed to cling onto her flesh as if they were his thoughts. She sank her arms into the soapy water that rose in the sink as she worked the oily residue from the metallic surfaces of the pots. She would carefully turn the plates around and around to scrub at different angles and the water ran down her forearms, leaving them wet and soapy. In reality the entire task was done very quickly; however, to Ward it was like she was teasing him. She was showing him how detailed she would be, how patient and thorough she was. How her hands would touch and caress him, soft and slow. Once she was done cleaning one pile of dirty dishes, she would run the set under the faucet, careful not to spill it over the edge, rinsing it and then herself as if to cool her skin as well.

Then sometimes she would wipe her face with the clean water. She would lick her lips and let out a soft sigh as her hands ran down her face to her neck, closing her eyes as the water cooled her heated skin.

After an excruciating session few minutes, Jemma finally pulled the plug to the sink and they were finally done. She dried off her arms while Ward gathered up the dish towel that hung from the handle of the oven to busy his hands so not to do something rash like throw her across her newly cleared off dining table and have his wicked way with her.

Jemma gathered up the empty bottles of beer and placed them into a small box of recycles next to the entry way into the kitchen. He smiled at how conservation conscious she was.

When he was finished, he walked up right behind her. "Thank you for dinner." 

She turned with a tight smile towards him, her tablet in her hand. "You already said that, but you are welcome again anyway." She chuckled nervously.

He took a step towards her with a little smile, "Well, thank you then for all the times that you've patched me up. I was able to return to work efficiently all thanks to you."

Jemma blushed but didn't step back as he entered her personal space. She didn't want to step back but she didn't step forward either. She stood there statuesque, clutching her tablet to her chest. "It's fine, you more than made it up to me tonight. Besides, I couldn't very well let you leave all bloody and bruised and whatnot, now could I?" She reasoned. 

“You know, that had always been a mystery to me." He said, his voice husky and thick with longing. Ward looked at her - her soft, silky hair and her bright hazel eyes - he tried to drink it all in. As gently as he could, so not to startle her, Ward touched her hand with his, lightly running his fingertips on the back of her hand. "You could have turned me away if you _really_ wanted to... but you didn't. Not once. Why?"

She licked her lips, "What can I say? You are one very stubborn... stubborn man... you would have kept coming back any way." She swallowed and looked down at their hands. As if in slow motion, Jemma lifted her left hand from her tablet and pressed it softly against his, the back of her hand grazed lightly at his palm.

Jemma chewed at her bottom lip, turning round, her eyes looking up at him, as if she were seeing Grant for the very first time. trepidation in her honey colored orbs shined right up at him. _This isn't suppose to happen!_ She swallowed thickly, trying her best to get a hold of her rapidly increasing heart rate. _Why am she flirting with GRANT WARD?! Why is he flirting back? How did thing get so complicated between them?_  she thought miserably.

It was a quarter past 11 and he really should get going but Ward couldn't find it in himself to move even if he wanted to.

Grant slowly scooted closer towards her. He brought his hand away from her fingers and up to the side of her face. His callous thumb lightly stroked her cheek as he whispered, "If you keep biting your lip, it's going to fall off."

"What?" she breathes out, feeling her thoughts scramble in direct proportion to his nearness. Suddenly, her spacious kitchen seemed unnaturally cramped.

Ward's eyes wander from her eyes, down her nose, to her lips. Her eyes are fixed on his face, completely stunned. His fingers were so warm on her cheek. Ward could no longer resist the pull that she had over him and leans down to her, with Jemma standing statuesque. She couldn't tell if she was breathing anymore. He closes the space between them, tilting her chin upwards, his nose brushing against the soft skin of her cheek. She can almost taste his lips, the barest touch of soft – before —

Jemma's grip slipped on her tablet causing gravity to pull it towards the ground through the tiny space between them. Landing on the space free of their feet on with loud thump against the floor, Jemma was galvanized into action before Ward could fully taste her lips. For just a second she felt a trace of his skin and then...

"WELL, it's getting late. Look at the time!" she chokes out, as much to the wall behind him as she did to Ward's chest. She then spun around and stared reorganizing her entire set of spices in alphabetical order, as she felt the panic rising exponentially within her.

Earlier when she left work with the promise of finishing her letter to DW, she had felt practically immoral with happiness. Now those immoral emotions were for whole different reason. She had never actually experiences a crisis of conscience at this level before as her latent attraction to the security consultant comes to a head with her deep feelings for her pen pal. She'd been surprised –  _stunned_  even– by the sudden flush of desire she felt as he tilted her lips towards his.

 _He almost kissed her_.

And she would have  _let_  him – she still feels the coils of heat in her stomach from when he touched her cheek.

It came completely out of left field. 

 _How could she be so weak?_  She railed inwardly as she then proceeds to put her spice rack into the refrigerator, oblivious to everything around her. Whatever this physical attraction she has for Ward, it can't compare to the real sympathy and connection she has with her friend. Right?

Except that Ward _had_ been trying to connect with her, almost like all the letters she'd ever received from her friend had just materialized in that kitchen in the form of a sinfully handsome, perfectly sculpted single man.

Jemma cursed herself for agreeing to not exchanging names with her pen pal! It would have helped to bolster her thoughts, give her something real to clutch on to while she grappled with her chaotic emotions. Instead, was left utterly confused and started talking herself in circles. Is an almost-kiss a betrayal of her feelings toward DW? Her friend would never find out about this incident – but she have to live with the fact that the almost kiss nearly taken place in the middle of her kitchen. 

 _"And him!_ " Her mind screamed at her, " _He knows too!_ " Yes, Grant Ward was nothing but bad news for her. His ever present _presence_ in her home was like a flaming beacon driving her to distraction. 

As for Ward himself, he could hardly contain his disappointment. He was so sure they were sharing a moment when she pulled away from him like he had burned her. Wetting his acutely unsated lips, he leaned down to help pick up her forgotten tablet.

Unconsciously looking down at the screen, his eyes scanned a familiar document. Ward felt his legs grow roots in the middle of Jemma's condo, even though his mind was screeching for him to get the hell out of Dodge. His eyes were transfixed on the familiar speech pattern of the document as the realization of what he had just discovered fell atop him like a ton of bricks. He thanked every single holy entity that she was still turned around fiddling with her spice rack, so that she didn't see the look of sheer panic cross his face when he realized that Jemma Simmons was his  _Dear Friend_. 


End file.
